


Alone With Him

by FlufferNutterButter



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Humanstuck, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 14:26:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlufferNutterButter/pseuds/FlufferNutterButter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can't keep doing this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone With Him

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't feeling well, so decided to forego NaNo to spit this out. Porn. Ish.

You’re there.

You’re drunk, you’re high, and you’re there in his bedroom, just like he asked. You’re in his arms, you’re out of your clothes, and you’re sinking to your knees in front of him while he unbuttons his jeans.

You can’t keep doing this.

That’s what you tell yourself when you stroke his dick with your hand, drawing a sigh from him. Already, his hand is in your hair, and you let him guide you, like a puppet, and he’s the puppeteer. His fingers dig, winding and knotting your locks, when you drag your tongue down the side of his dick, slowly, this being the only control over what you do to him. He’s calling the rest of the shots.

You can’t keep doing this.

Really, you can’t, because he’s calling all of the shots. All of them. Your breakup, messy as it was, has done everything for him and nothing for you. Honestly, nothing for you, since you’re here at his beck and call whenever the whim should strike him. You, and everyone else.

The thought makes you cringe. How many others have been in this same situation? Do you really think he calls you back here because you’re special? Because you mean something?

His hand pulling you forward reminds you of why you’re here in the first place, and you resume your duty, pressing your lips to the tip and slowly taking all of him. You’re used to his size, you got used to it when the two of you were still dating, used to the feeling of him in your mouth, in your throat. When you have all of him, you move back, moving your tongue side-to-side in rhythm with your bobs. His hand kneads your hair, and you’re sure the other is pressed against his mouth, keeping him from making too much noise. You know he’s doing this, but you haven’t been able to make eye contact with him during this, not since you two broke up.

You put more vigor into your movements, like you’re used to doing; you’ve learned to control your gag reflex from the number of times you’ve performed this act. You hate to admit it, but the small gasps that escape his fingers are making you hot. You can’t help it; your free hand snakes down. Your own touch makes you shiver.

Not as much as his touch.

Abruptly, he pulls you away. Roughly, you’re moved from the floor to the bed. The suddenness of his movements brings you down from your high, but he’s pulling off his clothes, finally, and then, it’s skin on skin. His face is so close to yours as he holds himself over you, and for a moment, you let yourself believe that nothing ever changed. You let yourself believe that he hasn’t had others in this same position, that you’re not just a quick fuck.

And his expression, for the briefest of moments, betrays the same hope. Then, he’s back to his prior demeanor, and his lips, which were getting closer to yours, you know it, slip to your neck, your chest. He administers to you, you realize, to get you close to that high you had reached before.

It’s working.

You practically spasm when his fingers stroke you where it counts, and they come away slick and coated. He doesn’t say anything, but shifts position, and you know what’s coming next.

The two of you convulse in tandem when he presses his dick against your entrance. Then, quickly, he’s all the way inside, and your back arches, your breath is drawn in with a quick gasp. His attention is not paid to you.

He’s holding himself over you, and you can nearly feel his gaze on your face as both of your bodies rock with the force of his thrusts. You can’t meet his eyes, though, and keep your face turned to the side. You can see his arm. You can see the wall. You can’t see his face, and that’s what matters.

He knows what he’s doing, you know from the way your body is reacting. Too many times you have done this, too many for him not to know exactly how to touch you to achieve maximum results. But this isn’t for you. This is for him. He would make it for him.

When he hits you just hard enough, just right, you feel yourself really react, and you throw your head back and groan. Your mouth just hangs open now, and you’re panting. You still can’t meet his eyes, though. That’s okay; he’s not looking at you anymore. His head is bowed, eyes probably closed as he gets closer to orgasm. His force and precision with each thrust only gets better. Both of you are sweating now.

And now, he’s getting erratic. Moans and other hot noises are more freely given. He’s close.

And he hits you just right again, causing you to gasp. Again, you cry out. Again. He hasn’t come yet. You know he’s close, but he’s still going.

Again. Your cry this time is one of pure ecstasy. Your body is betraying you. Your haze is too thick to care.

When was the last time this happened? Why does he care for you?

Why does entertaining the idea that he still cares, still wants you for more than fucking, draw you to such a powerful orgasm?

You don’t know why, but it does. His next thrust makes you see white, and before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching around his neck. He’s bent over you, continually thrusting, and your body is buzzing with pleasure. As you pull him to you, you can’t help it.

“I love you!”

His groan is low in your ear, his head is bowed over your shoulder, and he thrusts only once more before he shudders, coming just a bit after you. His hands are all over you, yours are all over him, and the two of you come down. He remains atop you until you’re both completely done, and that’s when he moves to the mattress beside you.

When his touch is gone, that’s when it hurts.

You’re naked atop his blankets, and you curl upon yourself, completely exhausted, physically and emotionally.

He hasn’t spoken a single word.

~~~

You understand the relationship between the two of you isn’t great. You knew that when you ended it with her. You know it now, as much as you regret it.

There has never been a moment you regretted it more than now.

She’s not even under the blanket.

You had let her sleep, and you never covered her with the blanket.

The cloth in question is now in your hands, and you use it to cover the both of you, letting yourself press up against her. She sighs in her sleep.

You know that sigh is for you, and you know everything, every thought behind that sigh.

You know.

You know you screwed up. You know you’ve pushed yourself away from her, and she’s pushed herself away from you. You know a lot of that is your own fault. You know she still wants you. Last night, you learned she still loves you.

You still love her. You always have.

This night has changed everything. Before, you were only in it for the sex, and you thought she was, too. But when she held you, cried her love for you, it hit you hard in your core.

It still does, hours later. Even more so that you’re so close.

You stroke her face, letting your fingers trace down to her neck, and you press your lips to the skin that is exposed when you brush her hair away. Then, you wrap your arm around her torso.

You want this moment to last forever, but of course it doesn’t; you fall asleep in the early morning light.

You wake, though, when your body finally registers her absence. She has gathered her clothes and is walking out of your bedroom. With speed you didn’t know you had, you shoot out of bed and grab some pants, just enough to cover you as you chase her.

She has no time to react when you stop her at the front door, pull her to you, and kiss her, stroking her the way you did last night. When you pull away, there are tears in her eyes.

There are in yours, too. When had either of you started crying? When had either of you stopped?

She looks confused, but lets you kiss her again.

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of a scrappy put-together. Oh well. Still my first NSFW.


End file.
